Family History
by MissAnnThropic
Summary: The first time Sam talks to Jessica about his strange family.


Title: Family History  
Author: MissAnnThropic  
Spoilers: Pre-Series, Stanford Sam  
Summary: The first time Sam talks to Jessica about his strange family.  
Disclaimer: As if anyone is surprised, but none of it's mine.  
With much gratitude: I want to thank my techno-lohtar, Sierra Phoenix, who makes posting of my fics possible and slaved herself out as my beta.

* * *

"So… heading home for Thanksgiving?"

Sam Winchester felt a strange twist of content and anguish in his gut… the former because his girlfriend had leaned into his personal space and practically purred the question at him, the latter for _what_ she had asked.

He tried to sound casual. "Nah. You?"

Jessica gave a lazy shrug, leaned closer, and deliberately pushed the book he was studying out of his lap and to the floor.

"Hey, I was-" Sam began to protest, but shut up quickly when Jessica replaced the book with herself.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, looked him right in the eye, and asked innocently, "You were saying?"

"- was hoping you were going to do that," Sam recovered and wrapped his arms around her. It was still new to him, every touch and taste and sound.

But not new enough that she wouldn't ask questions.

Jessica toyed idly with the hair at the nape of his neck. "You should, you know. Go home. You should be with family on the holidays."

"What if I told you I liked being with you better?"

She smiled, but thinly. Sam knew her just well enough to know she wasn't going to let this go. He'd known this was coming, from the moment he felt a terrifying, breath-stealing, heart-tugging jolt with her that told him she could be _the one_. If she was, she had to find out _some_ of the truth sooner or later.

He would have preferred _later_.

Jessica looked intently at him, the look that made Sam squirm because it was as though she could see through all his bluffs and lies straight to all the dark secrets he tried to hide. "You never talk about your family, Sam… or when you were little."

Sam shrugged uneasily. "My childhood wasn't that great, and my family…" Sam swallowed. He was still mad at his father, even after all this time, but the thought of Dean… it _killed_ Sam that escaping his father's overbearing life-obsession had meant leaving Dean, too.

"Tell me," Jessica plied gently, leaning in closer until he could feel her hair tickling his face. "Are they… do you _have_ a family?"

It would be so easy to just lie and say he was an orphan, tell her it was too painful to talk about and hope she left it at that.

But disavowing Dean was something Sam Winchester just could not do.

"I _have_ a family…" Sam hedged. Then he sighed. "My mom died when I was a baby. In a house fire."

Jessica's eyes widened in sympathy. "Oh, god… I'm sorry."

Sam shrugged. "I don't remember her, but it tore up my dad. My whole life he was… looking for answers." It was the best Sam could do without laying it all out there in graphic blood-red hues. "Before Stanford," Sam continued wearily before she could ask 'what answers', "I never stayed in one place more than a month or two at a time, if that. We were on the road a lot. I guess you could say I grew up in the back of a '67 Impala."

Jessica frowned. Her own childhood had been normal; she talked about it all the time. Sam knew her childhood as well as he knew his own… he liked to live hers vicariously because it was everything he'd wanted his to be his whole life.

Jessica extricated herself from his lap, stood, then held out a determined hand to him. Sam accepted it and got off the couch, following her into the bedroom of the apartment.

Jessica climbed into the unmade bed and Sam followed, flipping on his back and immediately half-covered in Jessica. It was one of her family things. When she was little, if she was scared or upset her mother would lie in bed with her and hold her while Jessica spilled her little heart out about her troubles.

It was better than getting a .45 for comfort.

Sam had taken to Jessica's family tradition with all the gusto of someone desperate for a loving ritual, one that didn't involve knives, rock salt, and lessons in Latin.

"Sounds like a hard way to grow up," Jessica finally said in return to their couch discussion.

Sam shrugged. "Sometimes. Sometimes I got really homesick, even though I'd never had a home to miss, but I was just a kid. It was my normal. I didn't realize until I was older just _how_ unusual my life was." '_Then_ I started to resent it,' Sam thought, but did not say.

Jessica shook her head against his chest. "I don't know how your father could have done that to you. I'm sorry."

Sam felt a ball of emotion in his throat at the words. It was the same thing he'd expected his father to say to him, but it came from Jessica instead.

Jessica lifted her head and looked at him… with a kind, slightly playful smirk on her face. "Although," she flashed him a smile, "being raised by a man like that explains some of the strange habits you have."

"Like what?"

Jessica chuckled. "Like chocolate milk in your cereal, using books to flatten out wrinkles in clothes, reusing silverware without washing it…"

Sam recalled vividly watching Dean do each of those things as he was growing up and laughed. "Honestly… if you asked who raised me, I wouldn't say my father."

Jessica's teasing expression slipped to questioning.

Sam felt lonely for Dean as he said, "My brother took care of me."

Jessica settled back against his chest, one arm folded across his pecs so she could prop her chin on it. "I didn't know you had a brother."

"Dean." Sam confirmed with a nod. "When Dad was… gone, which was most of the time, Dean looked after me. He made sure I was fed and that I brushed my teeth and went to bed at a reasonable hour. Dean did all the stuff my dad should have been doing."

"How much older is Dean?"

"Four years."

Jessica's brow crinkled. "So, when your dad left you on your own and you were, say, three years old, Dean was only seven?"

Sam nodded. They hadn't been left on their own too often at that age (Dad usually tried to find a sitter), but it _had_ happened a few times.

Jessica scowled. Sam could tell she was thinking bad things about John Winchester. Then her expression shifted to sadness. "I think I might feel worse for your brother." Jessica gave a disgusted shake of her head. "That's a lot to put on a little kid's shoulders."

"I know," Sam murmured, a lot frustrated and a little guilty. "He did the best he could, which was pretty damn good, all things considered." Sam smirked. "My dad not being around much and our mom dead, Dean had to figure stuff out on his own about how to take care of me. Dean's the one who got me ready for school in the morning, even if that meant chocolate milk in my cereal because I was throwing a tantrum about wanting a chocolate bar for breakfast and that was our compromise." Sam smiled at the memory.

Jessica sighed. "I don't think I could have been that responsible when I was seven."

"I know I wasn't. Dad hated that I wasn't as independent as Dean; he grew up ridiculously fast and I didn't grow up fast enough for his liking. I depended on Dean to protect me and take care of me for a long time." Sam swallowed. "He always did."

"Sounds like a good big brother," Jessica noted.

"Yeah, he was. _Is_. A great brother… and more of a father to me than my dad ever was."

Jessica was quiet a long moment. "I can understand why you wouldn't want to see your father for Thanksgiving," Jessica said slowly, "but why don't we invite Dean?"

Sam's chest ached. Invite Dean over for the holidays, like they were a _normal_ family? It was more supernatural in concept than anything Sam had hunted in his youth.

"I… I don't think that's such a good idea, Jess," Sam croaked.

"Why not? From what you've told me, I think I'd like him."

Sam could imagine the look on Dean's face when he saw Jessica. "Oh, and he'd _love_ you, but… it's just… complicated."

Jessica propped up on her elbow to look down at him patiently.

"I didn't exactly leave on good terms."

Jessica chewed on her bottom lip… she did that when she was really puzzled. "I can imagine that would be the case with your dad, but with your brother, too?"

"I think," Sam replied, "that having a father like ours, you had to either despise him or idolize him. Dean went the second route." Sam frowned. "Dean doesn't understand why I had to leave."

Jessica snuggled back down against his side and unfolded her arm to give his torso a squeeze. Sam returned the hug, heart pounding. This had been one of the moments he'd been dreading, telling Jessica about how screwed up his past was. But so far, she was being very calm about it.

Of course, he hadn't told her the really nasty shit. Their relationship was still too new for that. Nor had he told her that as noble as Dean was, he wasn't as valiant as Jessica's mind had constructed him to be. Dean hadn't come through their fucked up childhood unscathed any more than Sam had. Jessica wasn't ready to know the seedier side of Dean Winchester.

"When Dean comes around and figures out why you couldn't live that life anymore," Jessica finally said, "I want to meet him. And thank him for doing such a good job raising you."

Sam smiled wistfully. He'd love to see that day for so many reasons.

END


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